


Arguments I Wish We'd Had

by aldreikynn



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, ultra magnus makes drift and rodimus talk about their Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldreikynn/pseuds/aldreikynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's shouting before he realizes that he's shouting, which is how it usually goes.</p>
<p>(hi! i'm not dead. here's a short lil thing that happened because i felt An Emotion at 2am. post-DOTL.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arguments I Wish We'd Had

Rodimus finds it hard to say what needs to be said. Or, rather, it's harder than he thought it would be to fit the years of catching up and missed apologies into something that could be labeled as a coherent sentence. The small room is filled with silence, and Rodimus catches himself looking at Drift for what seems like too long.

Ultra Magnus clears his throat, creating a sound that even after years of close-quartered familiarity sends a shiver through everyone in a radius of about half a mile.

"I suppose I'll start," Magnus says, straightening his posture, trying to shift away from his inclination to silence. "First and foremost. Drift. Welcome back. You were missed."

_You were missed_ is an understatement, and Magnus knows it. He holds a sort of restraint the other two could only aspire towards, his hands folded neatly in his lap and his mouth pressed in a thin line.

"I wasn't sure how I would feel rejoining the crew, but I feel just as comfortable here now as I used to be. Thank you for your kind words." Drift smiles, a smile that he knows Rodimus and Magnus aren't fooled by anymore, and gives a small nod of acknowledgement.

Rodimus sits, fists clenched, frame rigid, and listens. He listens to Magnus and Drift exchange half-hearted pleasantries, his mind racing, his spark pulsing, his head spinning. He listens. He struggles to keep a steady grip on what he's held onto for years now. He knows they're holding back, too.

Drift says something again. Rodimus doesn't hear what it is, but he knows it's Drift's voice, and that is enough. He hears Drift's voice, drowned out by voices echoing in his head and by pounding guilt that makes his whole frame seem to shudder and makes his spark twist and collapse in on itself. He angles his head down, his face towards the floor.

There's noise. Rodimus isn't sure if anyone else is talking anymore. He doesn't really care, either. He's shouting before he realizes that he's shouting, which is how it usually goes.

"I kicked you off this ship and left you alone. I don't understand how you can say you don't hate me." Rodimus is still staring at the ground, probably because he's noticed that there are tears on his face and he isn't keen on sharing that fact. "Drift. You can say you hate me. It's okay. You could punch me in the face, right now, and I'd be okay with it. That would be okay. I'd understand."

Drift knows Rodimus is crying, obviously, without having to see his face at all. It's in his voice, it's in his aura, in his body language. It wasn't like Drift didn't see it coming, either. Ultra Magnus slips out of the room, and Rodimus doesn’t notice. Drift does, though, and understands that it’s for the best.

Drift hesitates. "I don't hate you. And I'm not going to punch you, Rodi–"

"Don't." Rodimus spits. He's shaking and it shows. "I made you leave. I took you for granted more than I should have when you were around and then I kicked you out. Friends don't do that to friends. Good people don't do that, period. Just say you hate me. It'll make this easier."

"I don't hate you. Stop it." Drift says. "You didn't make me do anything. I left because you couldn't and somebody had to. I volunteered."

Rodimus is quiet.

“Look at me, Rodimus,” Drift says softly. They’re sitting close enough that their shoulders would nearly touch if Rodimus weren’t bent over with his head between his knees. “Please.”

Rodimus is still quiet, save some sniffles and chokes. He feels a little pathetic, but doesn't think about it quite as much as he thinks about how much he despises himself for everything he did to everyone, and to Drift in particular.

Rodimus reaches for Drift’s hand.

Drift lets him.

“I’m sorry,” Rodimus says.

Drift hesitates, if only for a moment.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Drift.”

“I know.”

Drift goes to wrap his arms around Rodimus, to hold him like he used to hold him, to tell him that everything was alright.

Rodimus lets him.

 


End file.
